


Wet

by Anonymous



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Omorashi, Wetting, pee play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: How Molly Hooper discovered her kink.





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> If there's interest, there could be more chapters. 
> 
> (If you think you know who I am, I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT)

The first inkling she had was in uni, when she and her roommate went clubbing after a particularly brutal exam. “I’m tellin’ you Mols, this is it. No med’cal degree for me.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Molly said, more to keep Veronica from having another pint than out of any conviction that she’d actually scored well enough to keep her place. “Come on, we should head back.” 

“Nope. Gonna drink, Mols, gonna drink and get drunk and dance my woes away.” 

“I think you’re a bit beyond ‘get drunk’.”

“Drunker, then.” Veronica had saluted with her nearly empty glass, then wobbled her way onto the dance floor. They hadn’t left until nearly closing time.

“Verny. Let’s go home, yeah? Sleep it off.” Molly slung Veronica’s arm over her own shoulder, grabbed her around the waist, and began hauling her out of the club. No cab was going to take them, but their place was just a couple blocks away, and the air might do Verny good. Halfway home Verny let out a little gasp. 

“Molly. Gotta piss.” 

“Not surprised. Nearly home.” 

“No. Gotta pish now.” 

“Verny, come on. Let’s just walk a little faster…” she stopped when Veronica pulled out of her grasp and grabbed hold of a lamp-post, legs slightly spread and shivering. 

“Just...can’t wait, Mols, sorry. Gotta...oh, that’s better…” Her light blue trousers had a distinctive stain, a spreading stain, wetness running down first one thigh and then the other, and there was a pattering sound as she let go, pee gushing to drip onto the pavement. 

It should have been disgusting. Molly should have been writhing with secondhand embarrassment. She wasn’t. The tingling low in her belly took her completely by surprise, and she had a sudden urge to thrust her hand between Veronica’s legs, to feel the heat and wet cascading over her fingers. To unfasten her friend’s clothing, run her fingers between layers of soaked cloth and cup Veronica’s mound while she humped against Molly’s hand. 

But then Veronica stood straighter, pulling herself up by the post, and stepped away from the puddle, nearly collapsing into Molly’s arms, and the moment passed. 

~*~

She’d tried to write it off as a one-time anomaly, just a kinky little one-time blip in her otherwise ordinary life. 

But she couldn’t forget the way the fabric had darkened on Verny’s legs. The slick sheen of freshly soaked fabric. Had it felt good, the warmth running through her pants and down her legs? How would it have been, if Molly’d followed her instincts and pressed her hand into that flow? Would it have changed the sound, the rhythm of the drips hitting the ground? The spread of the puddle? Would she have enjoyed the faintly cool sensation after wiping her hand on her own thigh? The idea was exciting. A secret thrill, certainly not one she could share with anyone. Maybe...maybe she’d try it herself. Yes, she decided. She’d wait until she had the flat to herself. It wasn’t going to hurt anyone, was it? No, of course not. Not if she contained the mess and kept it secret. 

~*~

She waited until Verny was gone for the weekend, and decided to do it in the bathtub. Easy clean up, she reasoned, and the mirror faced the shower so she could watch herself. She drank water, a small bottle followed by another and leaned over her textbook, enjoying the slight urge, the anticipation of it. Not urgent, yet, and she drank some more water. Did she want to wait until she was desperate, like Verny had been? No, she decided. That didn’t appeal. But soaking her pants did, so very much. The need built, full and tingling, and she pressed her hand between her legs and let just the slightest dribble...oh. Jumping up, she ran into the bathroom and stepped into the tub, looked at herself in the mirror. There was a small darkening patch, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it. But god, looking at it felt so good. She knew it would feel better if she just let go. Let the warmth run down her leg, spreading over the front and seat of her trousers...with a gasp, she released, watching in the mirror as she pissed, and pissed, and pissed, panting and soaking herself, not trying to stop or even slow the flow, pressing her hand between her legs and letting the pee pour over her palm and drip off her fingertips. The warmth flowed up, too, through her whole body, a tingling pleasure that said this was absolutely not an anomaly, or a one-time thing. Not a blip. This was enjoyable, and exciting, and she’d definitely be doing it again. 

She did three loads of laundry that weekend, and learned that jeans were the best for soaking and watching the spread, fleece pyjama pants would sag nearly off her hips, dark with wet, after a soaking. She contemplated sitting on folded towels, seeing how it felt to soak the padding and then just stay there, but that felt a bit too daring to attempt. Maybe next time. 

~*~

She managed like this, wetting on the sly and delighting in the release, the slick shine, experimenting with which fabrics felt best. The day she forgot to take off her slippers, filling them and feeling the pee squelch up between her toes, well. She’d not be forgetting that anytime soon. 

And then one day Verny came home early. Molly heard the door open from where she stood in the tub, one hand down her corduroy slacks, gushing over her palm and dripping from the hems and soaking her socks...and Molly had forgotten to close the door to the bathroom and oh, god, here she came, this was it, her secret was found out. She dared to glance at the doorway, and there was her flatmate, tiny and blonde and staring in...amazement? Her lips were parted, her eyes wide, a flush spreading over her cheeks. 

“Molly?”

“Verny...I can...I...um…”

“No. No, don’t. Don’t hide. Oh, Molly. I...you enjoy this? Wetting yourself?”

No point denying it. She’d been caught, wet handed. “I do. I never knew, but then that night...after the club…”

“God. You never said. I was so embarrassed, but it felt so good.” 

“It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen.” 

“Would you like to see it again?” Verny kicked off her shoes and stepped carefully into the tub, one hand braced on the tiles to catch herself if she slipped. “I really need to pee.” 

Molly couldn’t drag her eyes away. Her flatmate, her friend, standing barefoot in the tub, scrunching her skirt up between her legs and sighing, sighing, and the pee was running down her legs, a fresh burst of warmth on Molly’s feet where it ran toward the drain. Verny dropped her skirt and it flapped wetly against her thighs, and Molly couldn’t resist reaching to touch, pressing the fabric back into the stream, whimpering at the heat that pooled in her palm and ran between her fingers to drip against the porcelain. “Oh my god. I wanted to do this...it’s so hot.” 

Verny pulled her close, rubbing against Molly’s hand and biting her lip. “So good, Molly. So good.” 

Molly snaked her hand away, up under the sodden skirt, and slipped her fingers into the hot, wet pants, seeking, searching...finding. “Is this okay?”

“God, yes. Please, Molly. Do it!” 

Molly flicked her thumb over Verny’s clit, slowly, then faster and faster until her friend’s gasps echoed around her, magnified by the tile surround. With her other hand she unbuttoned her trousers, then thrust into her own soaked heat and chased both their orgasms simultaneously. Molly, already primed, came first, and Verny grabbed her arm and thrust against her fingers until she, too, went over. 

“Well,” Molly panted. “That’s a bit of a revelation.” 

“Isn’t it just?” 

They weren’t in love, there was never any question of that. But they shared the same kink, and the same flat, and it turned out to be a very nice arrangement so long as they both knew the rules. They parted ways at the end of school, and Molly could only hope that someday she’d find someone half as accommodating as Veronica. Barring that, a flat with in-unit laundry would do.


End file.
